


An Ambiguous Alliance

by ReconstructWriter



Series: Revelations [4]
Category: The Order of the Stick
Genre: And Terrible Decisions, Another Picturesque Goblin Village That Doesn't Deserve Xykon, Brief Spoilers for Start of Darkness, Briefer Spoilers for Good Deeds Gone Unpunished, If You Don't Know Redcloak's Tragic Past, Redcloak's Questionable Decisions, What Is Good Is Not Always Best, mostly implied - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:35:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27809185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReconstructWriter/pseuds/ReconstructWriter
Summary: Redcloak lays the groundwork for an alliance with the Monster in the Dark against Xykon but must confront his more recent past and his terrible decisions the Monster's first friend paid for.
Series: Revelations [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1857955
Comments: 3
Kudos: 6





	An Ambiguous Alliance

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Happy Holidays! And as an early Christmas present, another installment. Enjoy!

Darkness engulfed the armies, so black even goblin eyes had no hope of piercing it. When it withdrew, a single white pebble had been moved to the right. Within the shadow, a voice emerged.

“Okay, your move!” the Monster in the Dark said. “Aaannnd my question? Oh, um…why’d you become friends with Xykon if he’s such a meanie?”

Redcloak considered both game and question. The Monster made a surprisingly challenging opponent and this ‘go’, though human and Azurite muck, was a decent mechanism to spar wits with someone who hadn’t sacrificed their brain matter in a necromantic ritual. Hopefully his opponent’s mental faculties would translate well on the battlefield when the inevitable came.

Why he had answered the Monster’s plea to play while his missing eye still screamed in agony, he knew not but when opportunity knocked, he opened the door. Cultivating the Monster as an ally against Xykon had not been difficult. Redcloak had suggested an extra element to their games. The Monster eagerly agreed to twenty questions, a sufficient method to probe and coax loyalties.

Delicate green claws nudged a black pebble to the left, preemptively blocking the monster’s subtle attempt to surround his forces—and make the first of his own line. “I didn’t want to ally with Xykon. My…my brother thought it was a good idea—”

“Oh, Right Eye?”

A grimace. “His name was…Tazurizong.”

“Oh, Taz-uri-zong, Tazurizong, that’s a much nicer name to say than Right-Eye. Why didn’t he use Tazurizong?”

“Because Xykon would have killed us both if he couldn’t pronounce our names. Or ally with him. So I’m stuck as his right-hand goblin Redcloak. And that was two questions.”

“Awww, okay. I guess you get two questions then.”

How to phrase this innocently? “Have you thought about the future? What you will do after we gain control of the gate, the world and the gods?” 

“That’s easy! I’d look for Mr. Stiffly—maybe those gods could help?—and…bring him a big pot of stew. He likes stew much better than the watery gruel you gave him.”

“…right.” Once again, the Monster engulfed the board with darkness while making his move. This time a white pebble cut the black ones off from advancing. “Do you consider me a friend?” Redcloak asked. An ally, against Xykon, he dared not voice. He couldn’t sense the lich’s presence but had not spent thirty years stringing his 'boss' along to get stupid now. Especially with the threads fraying.

“Of course! And it’s your turn. But…Redcloak, why were you so mean to Mr. Stiffly? Did he…did he do anything bad to you?”

Redcloak fiddled with the pebble. This would require all the diplomacy his brother never had. “We are judged by the company we keep. Your friend was the exception of the Sapphire Guard. Had he been the rule, my family would still be alive.” Redcloak closed his eyes. He needed sympathy. Rip the bandage. “Once I was a simple acolyte in a simple village. We kept to ourselves, farming what we could on that barren land. Hunting what we could not. A peaceful people.”

“Until they came. A horde of Paladins. The most zealous and ruthless of their kind—the Sapphire Guard. They charged our village without warning. They murdered without mercy. My mother…she died first. A blessing. She didn’t have to watch her family butchered. We were but farmers and hunters and loggers, armed with simple axes and bows. We defended ourselves as best we could. Our high priest called his challenge to the Sapphire Guard, telling them he was who they wanted and distracted them for a few moments—with his life.”

“His death was not enough for them. They spread out, continuing the carnage. All they found—men, women, babes in arms, were killed. For the crime of being goblins.” He locked eyes with his newfound ally, “My brother was the only one I was able to save. We were…the only survivors.”

The Monster’s eyes quivered in the darkness. “Awww,” Redcloak’s vision was blotted out, though he could not tell if it was from the Monster’s darkness or the sheer strength pressing on all sides. Thankfully, he was released before blackening out. As Redcloak took life-giving breaths, he resolved to find a hug resistance spell if this alliance continued. “I’m sorry,” The Monster said, “But…if we’re judged by the company we keep…we keep Xykon company.”

“—because we have to—”

“—And Mr. Stiffly told me his secret club used to be bad. That’s why he joined them, because their club leader wouldn’t kick the meanies out so he had to go in to teach them better. Was…was that a lie?”

“…no.”

“But…then why? You hurt him so bad. I know you did. It wasn’t just meanie-mean Xykon. And Mr. Stiffly is my friend. I know we’re friends now in the real way and not just the ‘you tell me we are’ way but you hurt my first real friend. Why?”

“I…”

“The hell are you two doing?” Saved by the lich, “Bad enough I have to wait around for you to play ‘mother may I’ with the dim one?” For a given value of ‘save’. “But at least you’re preparing!” Xykon kicked the Go board aside.

Echoes of pain lanced through Redcloak’s lost eye, but long years of practice kept his fear expressionless. “I have every Bug Bear in this village preparing scrolls so we can do more doors every night. By sunset, we will be ready.”

“That’s hours away. I thought Hobgoblin town was boring ass shit but at least I had prisoners to play with there. This fucking wasteland’s got nothing but the fucking snow.”

Forcing himself to bow, Redcloak said. “Then I can patrol the village boarders for any such prisoners.”

“You won’t find anything. Even the dwarves had enough sense to leave this frozen hell…” Xykon’s voice grew muffled with distance and snow, much to Redcloak’s relief. His heart still pounded, his insides still liquefied and his eye socket still burned like a coal in the lich’s presence. Had The Plan not required it. Had the dungeon’s monsters been a little less…or a little more tough, had Xykon been a touch less powerful or Redcloak himself a level higher, the temptation to arrange an accident might become too great.

But Xykon was not the fool he’d been in life. On an earlier excursion massive, jagged teeth had closed around Redcloak, trapping him in the cage of the monster’s mouth. He’d been helpless as the giant throat constricted around him, futilely screaming for breath, for life…

(can’t die can’t fail can’tallbefornothing!)

Then the creature went limp. Redcloak had strained his pathetic strength dragging himself from lifeless jaws to see the lich looming over him. The silent threat was clear. As a practical matter, Xykon could more easily dispose of him than the reverse. Fear cooled his anger and Redcloak caged his newfound rebellion deep within his mind alongside all the others he had built up over the years. He would have his vengeance, but would not die for it. Hence cultivating the Monster as an ally.

Thoughts of the Monster dragged his wandering mind back to the gut-squirming question it sought to avoid. He had no justification. Not for O-Chul’s torture. Any other paladin—why had the gods given him the only innocent member of all the Sapphire Guard to torture? 

Because they were sadistic bastards, of course. Yet the question continued its bothersome pangs on his budding conscience as he trudged past the boarders of the village.

“He’s getting too close.” Lien’s whisper didn’t carry beyond their snowbank. The red-cloaked cleric had not heard, yet his approach toward their hideout which had so well served these past few weeks did not waver. “Has he spotted us already?” 

O-Chul observed the man. The familiar holy symbol did not glow, nor did the cleric scrutinize his surroundings. No other figures could be seen. The lich could be flying invisibly but opposed subtle tactics. “I do not think so. Redcloak is cautious and methodical. He would have brought allies against us.” He could now hear the muffled crunch, crunch, crunch of shuffling footsteps parting the snow inexorably closer to them. Armored as they both were, sneaking away would likely betray their presence, especially his movements. “Lien, get into the water.”

“I’m not leaving you behind.”

“You are stealthier than I and it is your best position. Trust me.”

“Always. If anything goes wrong, you better tackle him into the sea.” Her voice dropped even lower, “Or I’ll tackle you out of heaven.”

“Fair.” 

A man is judged by his company. The Sapphire Guard had wrongly slaughtered his village and turnabout was fair play. The Monster had dragged the paralyzed paladin to his torturous fate in the first place. No argument Redcloak made in the privacy of his mind stopped the queasy, twisting, burning feeling in his chest. None of it soothed his newly awakened conscience. Why had he bothered nurturing it at all? A part of him itched to use his final spell now. Anything would be better than re-living the memories of a paladin to dredge up some actual empathy—“ghah!”

Redcloak staggered back as his foot touched a grey cloak. A familiar human face looked up at him as he teetered on one leg. A step forward—onto the human—would steady him. A step back would send him ass over cloak. He wavered again. The snowbank, tired of his weight, collapsed, dumping him onto O-Chul, who reflexively saved him from a face-plant into the stone. Redcloak hung in his arms, mind a whirl. Surely this was a figment of his imagination. The paladin who had vanished from Xykon’s custody couldn’t suddenly be here, staring calmly as ever after nearly being stepped on. No, wait. O-Chul was sworn to protect the gates. Of course he was here.

“Your eye? Is there anything I can do?”

Definitely O-Chul. “You’ve done enough.” Redcloak got to his feet and the paladin let him go. “After you vanished to who knew where…I never saw Xykon so mad.”

The paladin returned to the snowbank where he had a bag of supplies. “I apologize for my abject failure to be present when most needed.” O-Chul said with damning sincerity. “Could magic re-attach a donated eye?”

“He’s forbidden me from casting regenerate.”

“But not other healing spells,” O-Chul pointed out, “If you believe the risk too great, your judgement is best, but the offer stands.”

“You’re spying on us.” Redcloak retorted, for lack of a better reply.

“Sadly enough, yes. For as long as any of you still pursue a goal that endangers the world.” Redcloak neither confirmed nor denied. “Thank you, for playing with Monster-San.”

“I have nothing better to do with my spell slots gone.” A foolish thing to admit to an enemy, but…he really didn’t see O-Chul as an enemy anymore. An opponent, certainly. Their goals still clashed by the nature of The Plan (What would little brother think?) Yet Redcloak was certain the last Sapphire Guardsman wouldn’t attack. He was safer here than in the Bugbear village, which now held Xykon.

He had another brief twinge of guilt at that. Once more he’d brought the lich to another goblin village. So far Xykon had always turned out bad for the unlucky goblin village. 

“Hmmm, except spare unexpected paladins,” O-Chul said, sounding entirely too pleased. More seriously he asked, “Or discuss whatever lost you in thought?”

“I’m not that bored,” Redcloak said, but didn’t move.

“True. You could always inform Xykon of my presence, or…” O-Chul pulled out a familiar board and set of pebbles from his supply bag, “We could play a game and talk without cage bars or the imminent threat of torture and death.”

Redcloak should alert Xykon. He had many compelling, practical reasons to do so. The Plan, first and foremost. The paladin still worked against him, and if Xykon found out about this, Redcloak and all within a hundred miles would be obliterated from the lich’s infamous temper. These days even the dungeon monsters barely soothed it. 

O-Chul had, as a prisoner. He could do so again.

Yet Redcloak sat down. “I can’t believe you taught this game to the Monster.” O-Chul set up the board and offered him choice of color. “I’m used to black.” 

O-Chul gave him white. “Hmmm, I have been meaning to ask you, but never had the chance at Azure City. What drives you to your plan’s desperate measures? Your move.”

“Equality. I just want a world where goblins don’t get murdered for existing. Is that too much to ask?” He moved a white piece to the side.

“Never.” O-Chul nudged a black pebble forward, “When I first confronted Gin-Jun, he was so enamored with doing right he forgot to consider doing best. So many others, goblin and human, died for those decisions."

Redcloak nodded, “That is why I was glad…and the hobgoblins were glad to conquer Azure City.”

“Yet your conquest has not shown others the error of their genocidal actions. Quite the opposite. My people are now happy to continue the war. Too many other nations see your conquest only to take the wrong lesson: to slaughter any goblins who gather in strength. You seek equality but your actions have led to a world more murderous to all goblins.”

“They have a safe place. Gobbotopia.”

“They had a safe place in the mountains. In Azure City they have a rich graveyard, for I fear my people will bring war back to you until all our people are dead."

“All the more reason to control the gate. Your people won’t matter, mortal opinion won’t matter when we have leverage against the gods themselves.”

“Hmmm…and the gods will not stop you? They will not destroy the world before bowing their heads to a goblin?”

“You think your precious good gods would stoop so low?”

“I think the neutral and evil gods outnumber the good. And all gods are proud.”

Redcloak bared his teeth, “I won’t bend over and take it. Not when I can make a difference. Even if it’s only allowing the Dark One a voice in the next world.”

“One voice against many. The gods may well decide to kill him…yet these world-altering things do not bother you.”

“Of course they do.”

“Not to such distraction that you would trod on me. What disturbs your thoughts so?” 

“I’m surprised you’re not trying to kill me.” Redcloak avoided the question, “After all we…I…” 

“Yes.” O-Chul bowed his head, “When you enslaved all those I swore to protect and worse still, threatened the very souls of my people.” His sad eyes turned hard as granite. “But killing you now would be as bad as killing you the night you healed me.”

“And torturing you too,” Redcloak added. “Don’t forget that.”

“You swore yourself to the Dark One, did you not? Dedicated your life wholly from the moment of dawning the Crimson Mantle onward to His goals and your people, spent decades in the service of a most deplorably evil man to further the goals of God and Goblins. If our roles were reversed, had I threatened your service or your life, would you rather not give up your head? Or take the shallow torture of flesh to spare your people?" Redcloak went very quiet. His silence spoke the truth. “So does my service mean to me. I would rather suffer every kind of torture and death you and the lich could subject me to, if only others suffered a little less.”

“And you’re—” Redcloak cleared his hoarse voice, “And you’re trying to argue me out of my service.”

“No. I am trying to persuade you to a better path for your people, just as I tried with Gin-Jun. You no longer have nothing to lose. Are you as their leader truly doing what is best for them?”

(No)

“There is no other option.”

O-Chul frowned, “And if there was?”

(There wasn’t. There couldn’t be. Or everything he’d done would be for nothing.) “No…no…enough of this. Why am I even bothering?”

“You chose to. And it is your move.” 

Redcloak stared at the board and scoffed. The Monster was a surprisingly good opponent, but couldn’t touch O-Chul for playing. The paladin had manipulated the board so there was one way out of losing—by sacrificing most of his pawns. A moment’s consideration though showed him another path from the jaws of defeat.

By sacrificing one peace.

Redcloak abandoned the board and the paladin. 

“You!” Xykon growled, snapping Redcloak’s mood from the pan into the fire. “Where have you been?”

“Patrolling.”

“Humph, and did you find anything out there but rock and the gods-forsaken snow?”

Redcloak thought of O-Chul, putting away an unfinished game. His conscience pricked. He could betray—no, it would not be betrayal, he owed the paladin no allegiance and the Sapphire Guard’s last member worked against them all. He could point Xykon to a different target. Sacrifice that one piece.

“What did you find?”

O-Chul had probably moved on. And the Monster, who hadn’t moved on, watched and listened. If Redcloak fingered his first friend, he’d toss out their tentative alliance too. Besides, if the paladin had two working brain cells, he would have packed up and moved by now.

“Snow.”

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: From the Monster’s lines, it sounds like of all Team Evil, he detests Xykon the most. With Redcloak also re-calculating the pros and cons of his alliance/puppetry of Xykon, this alliance seemed a natural progression of Redcloak’s choices.


End file.
